Worthy

It is the time of year when our state legislators are busy proposing bills and posturing for future prosperity. One proposition on the table this year hits close to home. The suggestion is that the top twenty percent of teachers in the state would receive bonus pay for achieving high student test scores and stellar evaluations from their administrators. The conversations have been lively and the debates range from whole hearted embracement to contentious loathing. Being a teacher, it is probably best to keep my mouth shut or I will be reminded of the Aesop’s fable involving a fox and some grapes.

All the chatter prompted me to reflect on some of the teachers from my early years. My kindergarten teacher was Mrs. B. Each day she graciously greeted a class of scruffy little diamonds in the rough. She was always perfectly groomed in her pretty dresses and dangly earrings. She seemed elderly to me which meant she was probably in her 40s. My favorite part of the day was after lunch. We were all squeezed into a small classroom that was probably meant for far fewer students, but Mrs. B. managed to get us all to relax on our little blankets and listen to a story or two. Her voice was soothing and had a calming effect on the rest of our day. She taught me that school was a safe place and stories can open up worlds of curious adventures.

Miss V. was my teacher in third and fourth grade. She seemed young and fun which meant that she was probably straight out of college and planning lessons a day at a time just to survive. She was pretty, too, and opened up for me a world of spelling bees (kids were required to know how to spell back then) and state history. I loved the challenge of learning new words and finding out more about our diverse state. Like Mrs. B., she also read to us after lunch each day. We had outgrown our blankets, but not our love of a good story. Laura Ingalls Wilder became my friend during those years thanks to Miss V. and her expressive reading.  

Miss T. was my fifth grade teacher and she was the first teacher to make it clear that I wasn’t going to be good at all subjects in school. She attempted to teach us drawing in Art class. This wasn’t like the usual craft projects we had completed in prior art classes. This was nudging at the real deal. Well, I had barely made it through the cut and paste projects, much less attempting something that required eye-hand coordination and skill. I can still see the sad little person I drew riding on an out of proportion bicycle. I thought a few daubs of brightly colored paint would surely mask my inefficiencies. Not so. Miss T. was smart enough not to let me get by with poor quality. She taught me that sometimes we have to stretch ourselves in our endeavors and that getting less than the top grade doesn’t irreparably damage one’s self esteem.

Mr. L. was one of my high school teachers. He had a good rapport with students and ran an orderly classroom. Our school was a small, rural private school so money was tight and often our high school teachers had to step in and teach subjects that weren’t necessarily in their areas of expertise. One year Mr. L. agreed to teach a science class that was not in his field. I remember that he began the first day of our class by stating that we were all going to be learning the material together, one day at a time. I learned from Mr. L. that sometimes we have to be willing to take risks and dive into pools of uncertainty because we believe in education and doing what is right.

I don’t know if any of my former teachers would have qualified for merit pay. I do know, however, that each one of them is worthy of my respect and I am forever grateful for their willingness to believe in me.